


Personal Jesus

by JaRR77



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Degradation, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Smut, F/M, Physical Abuse, Smut, weird sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaRR77/pseuds/JaRR77
Summary: When Michael descends into hell to retrieve Madison & Queenie, he also picks up a witch (reader) who had previously met with Cordelia Goode about attending Miss Robichaux’s, but had decided against it (a la Alexandra Breckenridge’s S3 character).Michael knows a horrible secret of yours, and he uses this information to blackmail you into feeding him information about the Coven, thus helping him begin his takeover.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 38
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> For plot reasons, the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men is located in Mandeville, Louisiana -- a town 40 minutes away from New Orleans.
> 
> First chapter is mostly just setup (and not really that well written, I realize now) but relatively short. First smut scene is in chapter four, so if you see what you like, there's gonna be more where that came from.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I would really appreciate feedback as this is the first fanfiction I've written :)

You looked at the three of them, clearly confused, nervous. Something was amiss. “Who are you guys?” As you spoke, you realized the odd casualness of your phrasing. The man was the only one to answer you. “My name is Michael Langdon. I’m here to get you out.”

You furrowed your brows. “You mean... out of hell?”

“Yes, out of hell.” he said, going through the motions of your realization.

The prospect of an end to what was supposed to be eternal suffering made you want to disregard the confusion you felt, but you couldn’t help yourself. “I -- is this a trick?”

“I promise you, this is a genuine offer of help. Unless you’d like to stay here?” He asked with a composed smirk. Your eyes widened and your muscles tensed in fear. “No! No, I’ll come with you -- I mean, I want to come with you.” You exclaimed hurriedly. 

“Then let’s go.” He turned around to leave, and you all followed.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the four of you, in all-black garb, approached the small group of people standing in front of a behemoth of black stone, You weren’t surprised by their reactions. You figured that they were acquainted your travelling companions, as you didn't recognize any one of them. This only served to confuse you even more so than you already were. One woman fainted, and as the two girls you had travelled with went to aid in helping her, you continued to stand by Michael. His stiff demeanor didn’t exactly make you feel comfortable, but you had absolutely no idea what was happening, no idea where you were. Your presence didn’t seem to bother him -- in fact, it didn’t seem to affect him at all.

After a few moments, he started walking towards the crowd, and you followed suit. Your eyes fell to the unconscious woman, and you realized you had been wrong -- she seemed vaguely familiar, and you soon remembered where you had seen her before.

Cordelia Goode, she had introduced herself as, when you were pressured to meet with the Headmistress of Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. She spoke with you about how your powers were a gift, how they could be honed, and how you could possibly develop more. She was very charismatic, but you had to refuse her invitation to join the “Coven”, as she had referred to it. Your powers did not make you uncomfortable per se -- you just didn’t find it necessary to attend a boarding school for the chance that they might become somewhat stronger.

Once everyone was inside (and underground, to your surprise), the other men, seemingly overjoyed by Michael’s actions, left you and the rest of the women to tend to Cordelia. Once awake, she exchanged emotional greetings with the girls you had travelled with, who you now knew as Queenie and Madison. You stood off to the side and looked awkwardly around the room.

“I know you.” Cordelia said with certainty. You turned to look at her, as everyone else turned to look at you.

You nodded. “Yeah, um, I met with you at your school about a year ago. My name’s (F/N L/N).”

She smiled faintly. “Pyrokinesis, right?” You were surprised she remembered -- the school had seemed well populated, and you recalled that you weren’t the only girl she had had an interview with that day.

You smiled back. “Yeah… are you ok?” You asked, not knowing what else you to say.

“Yes, I’m fine. I suppose I should ask the three of you the same question.” She glanced over to Queenie and Madison. Both of them answered yes, and did seem genuinely alright -- at least at this point, while still riding the high of newly-granted freedom. You felt excitement as well, though it was tempered by your unfamiliarity with the surroundings.

You felt the need to ask, “Where are we?”

The older woman with the impressive red hair answered. “Unfortunately, we’re entrapped in a school for young men gifted with meager magical abilities. If you are inquiring as to a more general location, we are in the dreadful little town of Mandeville, a little ways out from New Orleans.”

Changing subjects, Cordelia addressed her. “Myrtle,” she turned, “I want to see him. The boy.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You all entered the room at the same time as the men. You looked to your savior. You felt nervous, inadequate, just from being in the same room as him. The one who you had heard referred to as Ariel spoke first, clearly feigning concern, “Are you alright? We were so worried.”

Myrtle gave a dismissive remark. Cordelia confirmed her health, and thanked Michael for bringing her girls back. You wondered if that group included you.

“I wanted to get your attention.” he replied. The statement felt ridiculous to you. He had brought three people back from the dead in one day. Not to mention the fact that there was something about him, something besides his beauty, that fascinated you. He was calm, reserved -- traits you supposed would often attract interest; instill in someone a desire to dig beneath his aura of mystery. You wondered how many people had tried and succeeded.

It seemed clear, after the confrontation, that the hostility between the witches and warlocks was due to a notable power imbalance. Apparently, there had never been a male Supreme, so when Cordelia announced that due to a vision she had had of Armageddon, she would allow Michael the chance to take “The Test of the Seven Wonders” to determine whether or not he was to be her successor. Everyone seemed shocked; the men, delighted -- the women (especially Myrtle), agitated.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael takes the Test of the Seven Wonders, and you two have a chat.
> 
> _Also the writing gets better after this chapter, I promise _.__

You had no family left, no prospects, so here you were at Miss Robichaux’s. Everyone was very welcoming and kind, though perhaps a bit too kind, sometimes feeling inauthentic, saccharine sweet -- dull. Nonetheless, you weren’t too bored. Your head was often -- constantly -- filled with thoughts of a certain warlock. Though you were skeptical of one thing -- his reason for plucking you out of hell. You were beyond grateful for his decision to do so, but you wondered why along with Cordelia’s former protégées, he brought back a girl who Cordelia spoke to for about an hour, one year ago. 

Perhaps you could ask him about it one day, that is, if the two of you ever spoke again.

You were embarrassed to dwell on the thought of how you had asked to witness Michael’s test. When you spoke with Cordelia, you had told her it was because you wished to learn more about the customs of the Covens. To your surprise, it seemed as though she had believed that you were interested solely from an academic standpoint. You speculated this was due to how thorough you’d been with your schoolwork since arriving.

For the entire duration of the drive to the Hawthorne School, you were on edge. Your feelings were only intensified when you both witches and warlocks gathered just before beginning the test. Everyone else’s presences made sense. Cordelia, the Supreme, her council, the council of warlocks, and, of course, Michael. The only other person whose presence was arguably as unnecessary as yours was Madison, and for this you were grateful. Her presence could make it seem as though the girls who had been recently revived by Michael, council members or not, were invited to attend -- though that didn’t necessarily seem like an obvious conclusion one would arrive at.

You had noticed Michael throwing odd glances at you throughout his test. They constantly switched back and forth between friendly and annoyed. At the end of the test, just before he attempted Descensum, he looked at you almost threateningly, as if saying, I could send you back. You tried to hold his gaze, but you ended up looking away. He had frightened you, but the sheer intensity of his glare, and the fact that it had been directed at you alone, made you feel important, flattered.

To every witch’s dismay and no one’s surprise, he passed with flying colors. Even bringing back another witch, Misty Day, who had somehow been in a hell even more elusive than the rest. Cordelia fainted once again, and as she woke up, she became emotional once again -- this time, to a point where you questioned if her and Misty were involved.

As Cordelia continued to feel ill throughout the rest of the day, your travel plans were rescheduled, and you all stayed the night at Hawthorne. As you went -- a bit later than you had originally planned -- to the shower to ready for bed, you passed Michael in the hallway. You gave him a polite smile, which he returned with his signature smugness. Just after you passed him, he spoke.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?”

You turned around and replied, in a tone of polite enthusiasm, “Yeah, sure.” 

You stood, waiting for him to begin the conversation, but he let a few uncomfortable moments pass. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he began.

“Could we talk in my room, if you don’t mind? I’d just prefer a bit of privacy.” His tone was also civil, but much less eager -- and you could barely believe what was happening, or fathom what was to come.

“Um… ok. I mean -- are we allowed to-” you hesitated for half a second, “be in each other’s rooms?”. He gave a grin followed by an amused huff. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t we be?” You stare at him, trying to convey an absence of uncomfortability. You knew you were failing.

“Come.” He said as he turned around. It was somewhat degrading, you thought. You barely knew each other, and he was giving you single-worded commands, as if you were a dog. However, considering he rescued you from eternal torment, as well as your infatuation with him, you decided to ignore it.

When you reached his room, he held the door for you. You stepped in and just stood there. There were no chairs in the room other than the one tucked under the desk. He entered and sat on the bed, patting the space next to him. Again, he made you feel like a house pet. You sat. He was staring at you, refusing to say anything (once again), and given the proximity, you tilted your head away from him slightly, towards the door.

“So, did you mean to kill them, or was it an accident?”

The blood in your veins froze; your body became as stiff as a rock. Naturally, you hesitated, but then you willed yourself to speak, in as casual and even a tone as you could.

“What?”

He chuckled, and maneuvered his head to get a better view of your face. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact. “Your family -- did you mean to do it, or did you just lose control?” You were shocked, not only by his impossible knowledge, but by his sudden break from formality. He was giddy to torment you.

You refrained from the classic _I don’t know what you’re talking about _. While you didn’t want to say anything to incriminate yourself, you knew this boy would only ridicule and intimidate you further if you vehemently denied anything.__

____

____

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He pulled away and sat up straight. “Aw, come on, show a little respect -- I pulled you out of hell barely two weeks ago.” Well, you couldn’t deny that. “And I wouldn’t say there’s anything wrong with me.” There’s a pause.

His voice lowered, he adds, “And I don’t think you would either.”

“What does that even mean?” Your voice indicated so clearly how exposed you felt, it would have been better if you’d said nothing. At your response, he laughed. Not a chuckle, or a huff -- a hearty laugh. He jumped up to stand directly in front of you. As you preferred not to stare directly at his clothed groin, you looked up at him. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket.

“On November 24th, at approximately 7:30 PM, Officer Paul Mendez responded to a 911 call concerning a house fire. When police and fire department arrived at the scene, the roof of the house had already collapsed. Blah Blah Blah… ” 

You looked down and away, ignorant to the look of utter shock on your face. “ ... Oh, here it is. Police took in for questioning a young woman who had been standing outside the home. She was compliant in answering all questions. She was the surviving member of the family killed in the fire. Name: (F/N L/N) Date of Birth: … I think you get the point.”

You didn’t -- well, you understood that he was aware of a particularly unpleasant event from your past, but you didn’t get the point of him taunting you about it, especially considering he hadn’t provided you with any damning evidence -- or any evidence -- of what you had done. You forced a snort, and looked up at him. “That’s a goddamn police report. That doesn’t mean shit.”

“After everything you’ve seen today, not to mention what I did for you and your sisters,” his distaste is obvious as he references the cloying affections within your Coven, “you really think I couldn’t get the evidence I would need to put you behind bars for the rest of your life?”

That shut you up. He had suddenly gone back to his formal, cold affect, which only accentuated the precariousness of your situation. Trying to hold onto some of your remaining dignity, you made eye contact. Though it didn’t help that in your current physical dynamic, you had to strain your neck to look up at him.

He put an end to the silence between you. “I’ve got to say, I like your style. Pyrokinesis is one of my favorites.”

“What do you want?” Your voice came out much quieter -- weaker -- than you’d intended it to, given that you had just tried to steel yourself to keep calm.

He cocked his head as he smiled down at you. “I want you to go back to your little nest of shrews,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “and get close to the women you came here with, as well as any others in your Coven you feel may have information that concerns me or the warlock councilmen.”

“My Coven? You’re the next Supreme!”

The only acknowledgement he gives your exclamation is an eye roll. “What they talk about. What they do, where they do it, when they do it. You will come here -- or to any other location I choose -- whenever I tell you to, and you will give me any information I ask of you. Do you understand?”

You felt distress over what your life was about to become, fear over his ability to send you to hell (in both a metaphorical and literal sense), and arousal at his uncaring dominance.

You kept your head up, but broke eye contact. You swallowed. “I understand.”

“Good girl.” He responded, and you felt pressure building between your thighs.

You slowly stood up, and had to walk sideways for a moment to move away from him and walk over to the nightstand. You turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes. But I may not be able to answer it.”

“Why didn’t you just threaten to send me back to hell?”

He smirked. “Too obvious. And too boring -- you would just be back right where you started. This way, if you fail to live up to my expectations, you’ll be thrown out by your comrades and sent to this world’s version of hell. Not to mention, you’ll end up villainized by the public, and your Coven’s reputation will be damaged.”

You knew you should not be excited by the small amount of thought he had put into his plans for you.

He took a step closer to you as he said, “Thank me for bringing you back.”

You gave him a mildly annoyed look. It was a reasonable request, but its timing was undoubtedly poor. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

One step closer. “Thank me for the opportunity I’m giving you.”

You glared at him, then broke eye contact for the hundredth time. You responded to his request through grit teeth, “Thank you for the opportunity.” You were humiliated.

You were able to look back up at him after the expression of false gratitude. He stared at you for a few moments, a condescending smile plastered across his face, before gesturing toward the door. “Leave.” He said, in a manor that casually implied that you were incredibly dumb to not have done so already.

You walked out of the room in a state of shock, and went to shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave feedback, or any questions you might have :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interesting meeting with Michael takes place, and you are then sent on a mission.

It had been two weeks since Michael had blackmailed you into his service. You had met with him twice already, both times at the Hawthorne school. He was displeased by the fact that the only information -- if you could even call it that -- you had been able to gather was that everyone at Robichaux’s resented him.

You knew that you hadn’t been trying as hard as you could. Though you weren’t particularly close with any of the other witches, or even too fond of the school’s sugary-sweet environment, the Coven had given you shelter, and a chance at a real life. 

But you also knew that your attempts to shy away from your responsibility was futile. You could not keep resisting Michael’s commands for much longer, as this would only land you in prison, or circumstances even worse.

You received a clipped text from him, instructing you to meet him at a hotel in New Orleans’ French Quarter. You went up in the elevator and walked to his room, hesitating before knocking. You were nervous -- the only news you had for him this time around was that a few new girls had joined the Coven, and that Madison had gone out of town.

The door opened and you jumped slightly. Michael’s annoyed glare seemed to mark the commencement of all of your meetings. He seemed as though he had already prepared himself to be disappointed with you, as he gripped your arm and pulled you inside. He plopped you down on the end of the bed, then turned the desk’s chair around to sit down himself. “Please tell me that you have more to report than mindless gossip.” You held his eye but fiddled with your fingers. “Well, there’s some new girls moving in.”

He rolled his eyes as he looked away. “Riveting. Anything else?” Michael was beginning to contemplate getting rid of you and blackmailing some other weakling from Robichaux’s into submission. Someone, ideally, with a brain slightly less dense than yours.

You had saved the best bit of information for last, although you figured he might not be as pleased as you’d hoped to learn that someone was (most likely) just taking a vacation. “Madison is out of town.”

He turned to look at you, mouth opened slightly and eyes narrowed in mild interest. This thrilled you, not only because it gave you relief that he might actually spare you from damnation, but also because he seemed at least somewhat satisfied with your report. His genuine attention, even a small bit of it, made you feel warmth in your chest and nether regions.

“When did she leave?” He asked.

“On Monday.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” His tone became slightly more eager with each question.

Your reply sounded more like a question than a statement. “Um, I believe Cordelia said Friday.” 

He continued, never breaking his gaze. “Behold is out of town as well, with the same dates of departure and return.”

You nodded, understanding what he was getting at, but refraining from speaking. You felt that if you confirmed your shared conclusion, he would ridicule you for feeling the need to vocalize something so obvious. You were shocked, though, that he suspected a warlock -- a member of their council, no less -- of conspiring against him.

He stood and walked over to the window, staring out. “When she gets back, ask her how her little “vacation” was. Converse with her and mention me after a while -- talk about how strange you find me. After a few days of chattering, ask her if she knows anything. Clear enough for you?”

“Yes.”

“If you are too obvious, she won’t tell you anything. Which means you won’t have gathered any information, Which means you’ll be fucked.” He spat.

Your heart rate increased, as if you weren’t already aware of the precariousness of your situation. “Okay, I’ll be… good.” You immediately cringed at your choice of adjective, but in the intensity of the moment, you hadn’t been able to think of any other descriptor.

Michael turned around, eyebrows raised, lips quirked upwards. “You’ll be a good girl, like you were during our first night together?” He asked mockingly, reminding you of the moment you had so easily buckled under his pressure and agreed to spy for him.

You stared at the floor, following his feet, as you begrudgingly replied. “Yes.”

There was a pause. You took the opportunity to ask him a question that had been on your mind since you received his summon. “Why are you in town?”

He frowned. “Are you really that stupid? The Hawthorne Council is meeting with your current Supreme tonight.” You noted the use of the word “current”.

When he belittled you for not meeting his expectations, you could take it, as you felt somewhat guilty for being too weak to actively attain information. But this time, he had wrongly assumed your incompetence, so you irritably answered his rhetorical question. “I know, I just don’t see why you have to attend. You’re not a part of the council.”

He came over, and stood directly in front of you while you sat -- the same awkward position he had presumed when he was blackmailing you in his bedroom. 

He spoke in a low voice. “Look at me.” You complied. 

“You were late today.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, feeling unsure due to his sudden austerity. “...Yeah, I’m sorry, my last class-”

”I don’t care what you’re ignorant enough to believe is more important than these meetings. You’ve disrespected our agreement, and now you will have to suffer the consequences.”

Your breaths became shallow.

“Kneel.” He moved aside to give you room to obey his command. Your breath hitched, eyes widened, jaw clenched. Arousal pooled in your underwear out of nervous anticipation of what was to come.

What happened next was certainly unexpected. Michael slapped you hard, up and across your face. You groaned loudly -- the blow had knocked you up against the bed. As you fell sideways, brushing past the fabric of his pants, you instinctively put an arm down to steady yourself. After a moment, you shakily returned to your former position.

“Don’t fucking move.” He spat as he walked past you.

A few moments later he was back -- you didn’t want to look up at him, out of both fear and humiliation. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. All of a sudden, you felt water being poured onto your head. Your face scrunched up as your mouth opened to gasp. He gave a relieved sigh -- clearly taking some pent-up aggression out on you.

It took a few moments for the flow to cease. You opened your eyes while taking deep breaths, too stunned to speak.

Michael wrapped his hands around your arms and pulled upwards. Face turned away, you complied with this non-verbal order and stood up -- you had no idea what else you could've done.

He let go of you. “Your hair is dripping all over the floor.” You let out an agitated exhale and shook your head in disbelief. He spoke again. “Take off your shirt.”

Your head snapped back to mirror the position of his. Shakily, you asked, “Are you -- what?”

He had the same smile on his face as when you’d first met him, in your own customized hell. False, and obviously meant to intimidate. 

“Take off your shirt, and dry your hair with it.”

You were scared, and you knew there was no way to hide it. Even if you had been able to completely control your reactions, you looked like a mess, and he was the reason why. There was no denying that he was in complete control -- so you hesitantly did as you were told. Once you held the damp fabric in your hands, you found yourself simply staring at it. Perhaps you were afraid to induce too much movement, with some of your more elastic flesh now partially exposed.

“I’d prefer not to call housekeeping.”

You began to move. You kept your torso muscles tense to reduce movement, but your hands worked your shirt around aggressively. You felt such an intense spike of adrenaline -- it was almost too much to bear. After about thirty seconds, you brought your shirt down and held it over your chest.

“Done?” 

He reached out to squeeze at strands of your hair, seeing if they were at risk of dripping any more water onto the ground. He seemed satisfied by your work. “Yes. Good job --” 

You were hastily throwing your shirt back on when he chuckled, remembering a moment from earlier in your conversation. “-- good girl.”

You pursed your lips in annoyance, masking embarrassment.

“One more thing. Be at the corner of Bienville and Lopez by nine thirty tonight. A friend of mine will be picking you up. ” He gave you the description of the car to look out for.

“Where are we going?” You knew you were going to be shaking with anticipation for the rest of the day. 

He grinned. “You’ll see -- in time.”

He gave two condescending pats to the top of your damp head, and spoke jovially. 

“That’s all for today.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked up the front steps of Robichaux’s, hair and shirt still damp, adrenaline ebbing away slowly. You found yourself looking forward to your next meeting with Michael.

You enjoyed him too much, and you knew it. While you definitely found it odd when your infatuation remained strong after he had blackmailed you into betraying your coven, you knew that it was of no consequence. Whenever you two met, you gave him what little information you had acquired, he gave you an insult or two, and then you parted ways. But things had now become drastically different, all within the timespan of one meeting. You worried that, if things became more intense between the two of you (and you didn’t even know what exactly that would entail), you would never be able to come back from it -- from him.

After everyone had been forced to endure the tense dinner with the warlocks, you walked into the living room, finding a few girls chatting off in the corner, as well as Madison, smoking on a chaise longue and scrolling through her phone. As mean as she could be, you had to admire her. She was one of the only people in this place you found to be genuine. Still, you felt nervous as you approached her. “Hey Madison.”

Her eyes flickered up to you and quickly returned their attentions to her phone. “Hey.” She sounded quite bored.

“Mind if I sit?”

“No.” Given her one-word answers, you knew you would have to steer this entire conversation. You decided to play into the awkwardness at hand, and exaggerate your nerves -- commenting on dull topics such as the weather and your classes so that she knew you were building up to something. When the time came to cut to the chase, you played the role of unaware, suspicious, and terrified -- though you supposed conveying that last feeling didn’t require too much effort.

You made sure that your voice quivered a bit as you got down the point of your assignment. “Hey, Madison -- can I ask you something? It might seem kind of... random.” She nodded absentmindedly.

“What do you think of Michael?”

She looked up from her phone. “I don’t. I mean, besides when everyone’s talking about what a shit Supreme he’ll be.” She was a very convincing liar.

You lowered your voice. “Yeah, I just… he makes me kind of nervous. I know everyone’s pissed about him being next in line, but I’m more like, scared, honestly.”

She put her phone down. “Why?” you had gotten her interested in a conversation -- a rare feat.

“I mean, he seems nice enough, sort of, but… there’s something about him that just seems kinda off. I mean, when he brought us back, how did he even know who we were? Cordelia said she hadn’t even met him by the time we arrived.”

She leaned in close and whispered, “Look, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kick your ass all the way back to hell. Ok?” You nodded, wondering if it was easier for her to open up to you, given your shared experiences of hell. 

She continued. “When I was in L.A., I found out some weird shit. I won’t get into all the details, but... he’s not even a real warlock, I mean...” her voice trailed off and she looked around to make sure that no one was paying even an ounce of attention to you two. “ He’s -- he’s something worse, and more powerful than you could imagine.”

You were genuinely shocked to hear of his true nature -- well, in the vaguest sense possible. “Well, what-”

She put a hand up to stop you. “Listen, I told the council everything. They’re taking care of it.” She stood up. “Remember to keep your mouth shut.” Her tone was biting, but her eyes gave her away. She was afraid; burdened with horrific knowledge.

It seemed you wouldn’t have to needle her for more information over the course of the coming days. You supposed you could try to get some of the specifics she had left out, but as this had already become a matter concerning the council, you knew she wouldn’t surrender. You would just have to keep an eye on the council members.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of hours after your conversation with Madison, you made you way to the decided street corner. You waited, anxiously fidgeting until a car matching Michael’s description pulled up. You opened the car door and saw a woman. This was surprising, seeing as this unacknowledged battle was very gendered. Getting in, her severe face shifted away from you and towards the front mirror as she pulled out of her spot.

You drove for quite some time, in complete silence. Eventually, you attempted once more to learn of the plans set for tonight, and she just responded, “A whole lot of fun.” At this point you had to resign yourself to ignorance. In the middle of nowhere, the car pulled onto the side of the road, shrouded in darkness, sitting about twenty-five yards away from a run down gas station. 

After fifteen minutes, another car drove by, and a few seconds passed before yours began trailing behind it. It pulled into the gas station, same as the other. the nameless woman got out and you followed her lead. She made smalltalk with the man you recognized as John Henry Moore, a member of the warlock’s council. He didn’t seem to have a clue as to who you, or the woman he was talking to, were. This made your stomach turn, as you put the pieces of the puzzle together; secluded area, nighttime, and a clear indication that he had no idea what Michael was up to. This wasn’t a secretive meeting between conspirators, this was the elimination of a risk factor.

Suddenly, the woman took out a gun equipped with a silencer and shot him in both his elbows and kneecaps, rendering his limbs useless. Falling to the ground, he let out a shriek, as did you. She didn’t seem too concerned, considering your location, though she did lean down to place duct tape over his mouth just in case. She stood and walked away from him, turning to you with a look of encouragement.

She spoke casually. “Go ahead.” 

You stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.

She rolled her eyes, somewhat playfully. “You know what I’m asking for, come on already. We don’t have all night.”

You sobbed as you closed your eyes, waving your hand to set the innocent man before you alight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you guys think!
> 
> Also, I did change the way that Mead took John Henry down, so that he wouldn't have been able grab her when she duct-taped his mouth shut.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with not only Michael, but the warlock's council. Afterwards, Michael brings you up to his room for some one-on-one.
> 
> (Don't wanna spoil, but contains first smut scene).

Michael requested your presence again only three days after your last meeting; three days after you had murdered John Henry. It seemed apparent that he was eager to ask about your ghastly errand, as well as what you had been able to learn from Madison.

You met him in the lobby of the hotel, unnerved by the presence of two warlock council members, though also somewhat relieved -- You felt absolutely terrified at the idea of being alone with Michael. Baldwin gave you a polite smile. Ariel’s, however, seemed more triumphant than anything. You figured this was due to the fact that one of his own had been able to convince a witch to support their cause -- though you weren’t sure if he was aware of how much _convincing _it had taken. You noted the absence of Behold; had he been killed off as well?__

__Ariel spoke first. “Y/N, so good to see you again. We were hoping you’d be kind enough to join us for lunch.”_ _

__He knew. His excessively polite tone, as well as the use of the words “kind enough” -- revelling in your forced submission, forced assassination -- was enough to tip you off. You weren’t too surprised; back at Hawthorne, Ariel had seemed the most determined to confirm the existence of “the Alpha”, and it was now apparent to you that he would do _anything _to secure the ascension of his protégé. You wondered if Baldwin knew of your situation as well, but was just well-mannered enough to refrain from rubbing your face in it.___ _

____“Of course.” You said with a tight-lipped smile._ _ _ _

____They led you through the hotel restaurant to a private dining room. They all sat down first, arranging the physical dynamic. Unsurprisingly, You were seated across from Michael and Ariel. All dishes had already been ordered, including yours, to ensure that the conversation would not be disturbed._ _ _ _

____“I know it must have been hard on you,” Michael mocked in a bored tone -- it seemed he had no qualms about belittling you in front of an audience -- “but were you able to get any information out of Madison?”_ _ _ _

____All eyes were fixed on you. You felt much less comfortable sharing information with the council directly; it drove home your awareness of the immorality of your actions. “Uh… Yes. She told me that she had found out some odd things about you while she was away. She said you weren’t even a real warlock.” You might’ve imagined it, but you believed you had seen Michael tense up for half a second. You continued your report. “She didn’t go into any specifics; the only other thing she told me was that she had talked to the council about her… discoveries.”_ _ _ _

____Ariel spoke. “Unsurprising that those bitches aren’t above lying to themselves to bring us down.” His gaze flickered to you, gauging your reaction -- you kept a straight face._ _ _ _

____Baldwin followed. “They’ll latch onto any bit of slander they can, even the jealous yammerings of a washed-up B-Lister.” He looked back over to you. “Did she say where she went?”_ _ _ _

____You stared blankly at the linen tablecloth, feeling guiltier than you’d been before. You had gotten the most guarded person at Robichaux’s to open up to you (to a degree), and yet, here you were, betraying her trust. “She let it slip that she had gone to L.A.”_ _ _ _

____Michael chimed in. “Perhaps she was looking for soldiers. A few celebrities have come out as witches in the past few years -- in the name of female empowerment, apparently.”_ _ _ _

____Ariel gave a hum. “Possibly. I’d more easily believe that she left for a few days simply to act as though she had uncovered some great secret about you when she returned.” He looked over at you. “Michael, Baldwin, I think we should continue this discussion alone, once we’ve finished our meal.”_ _ _ _

____As they nodded their agreement, you couldn’t resist saying, “Uh, I thought you guys had left town already.” At least, you thought that Ariel and Baldwin had._ _ _ _

____They exchanged amused, knowing glances amongst themselves, and Baldwin replied, “We decided to extend our stay.” This confirmed that they were knowledgeable of all that you had done under orders -- they had remained close by to make sure the deed was done._ _ _ _

____You cleared your throat. “Also, some people have started talking about how this girl Mallory might actually be the next Supreme.” Though they hadn’t pushed you to share any further information, you were terrified to withhold anything, even if it was likely inconsequential._ _ _ _

____The two older men just laughed, rolling their eyes at what they saw as a pathetic attempt at denial -- Michael had already passed the Test of the Seven Wonders, and everyone knew that there was only one Supreme per generation. Michael looked as if he were deep in thought._ _ _ _

____You looked down again. As Ariel began eating, the rest of you followed suit. The three men engaged in enthusiastic conversation, even discussing celebration plans for Michael’s ascension, while you remained silent. However, Michael would sometimes throw a displeased look your way, mouth set into a hard line._ _ _ _

____Once you all returned to the lobby, you quickly gave your goodbye and turned to leave. Michael caught your wrist. He asked in a serious tone, “Where do you think you’re going?”_ _ _ _

____You blinked. “I thought you said -- I mean, Ariel said that you guys should talk privately.”_ _ _ _

____He let go of you. “You and I still have some matters to discuss. Wait here until we’re done.”_ _ _ _

____Jesus Christ. “...Okay.” you replied. The other two seemed pleased by your resigned submission._ _ _ _

____\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _ _ _

____A good forty-five minutes passed before you received a text from Michael, simply reading, “Now.” You felt as though your legs were made of gelatin as you brought yourself up out of your seat._ _ _ _

____He was leaning against the doorframe of his room. It seemed he had anticipated the same hesitancy to approach as you had exhibited a few days ago. He looked stressed out -- it was a rare sight to behold, his guard lowered somewhat. You forbade yourself from slowing your pace as you walked towards him. He stood aside, and you withheld your breath as you crossed the threshold. You both turned to face each other. Him leaning back against the door._ _ _ _

____Michael spoke first, of course. “You actually managed to do your job.”_ _ _ _

____“...Thanks.”_ _ _ _

____He shook his head, almost imperceptibly so. “It wasn’t a compliment. It was a reassurance that you’ll be allowed to remain in my service.”_ _ _ _

____You felt relieved at the confirmation of your safety -- at least, your temporary safety. “Well… I’m grateful.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you?”_ _ _ _

____You looked at him hesitantly, heat filling your cheeks. You wondered why you had to repeat yourself -- it shouldn’t be surprising that you were glad to have avoided imprisonment. “Yes.”_ _ _ _

____Michael walked over to you, bringing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath fanning you._ _ _ _

____He spoke. “Ms. Mead tells me that you did quite well.”_ _ _ _

____You became nervous as you realized what he was referencing, and you evaded his bait. “Is… that her name?”_ _ _ _

____He huffed through his nose and stood back. “Yes, that is her name. She said that you did as you were told, but were pretty emotional about it.” He licked his lips in menacing amusement. “Hard getting back into the habit?”_ _ _ _

____You gave him a look of disgust._ _ _ _

____He decided to change the subject, mouth set into a harsh line as he scolded you. “Well, it seems I won’t be able to include anyone else in our meetings anymore, given that you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”_ _ _ _

____You didn’t respond to this, besides furrowing your brow in perplexion. They all asked you to share your gatherings as soon as you’d sat down. You wondered if he was upset due to you mentioning the Coven’s support of Mallory as heir, or if this was about Madison’s accusation of him being an outsider._ _ _ _

____Michael had always wanted you to obtain and disclose as much information as possible. Why would he suddenly change his mind? He would have nothing to gain from you holding anything back -- unless he’d preferred to keep some aspects of your accounts to himself. You wondered if, despite him implying that he had invited the two other men, if they’d _demanded _to attend this particular meeting, and Michael hadn’t been able to let you know. Did they take his phone from him, as if he were a child being punished for keeping secrets? The idea of this made you smile.___ _ _ _

______He didn’t respond to your clear confusion, leaving you with only your speculations. Instead, he shoved you back against the side of the dresser, eliciting a pained cry from you as your back hit the edge. You turned sideways to grasped at the furnishing, seeking support._ _ _ _ _ _

______It seemed that both verbally and physically abusing you was becoming a hobby of his. “Why are you doing this?” You implored with a strained voice._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Because I can,” you made eye contact with him, embarrassed by the tears welling up in your eyes. He continued, “and there really isn’t anything you can do about it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You were completely and utterly shocked when he closed the space between you, grabbed your arms, and pulled you into a rough, merciless kiss. Your forearms jerked up involuntarily in surprise. He brought one hand down to press his fingers into the spot where your back had hit the dresser, and you groaned against his lips._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael broke the kiss as suddenly as he had initiated it, throwing you onto the ground. You landed on all fours, and he grabbed you by your hair to pull you up into a kneeling position. Once again, the extreme imbalance of power was established._ _ _ _ _ _

______He began unbuckling his belt. Your stomach felt completely hollow as arousal began building within you. He said angrily, “You need to learn to shut the fuck up.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______When Michael pulled his partial erection out of his pants, he stroked and rubbed himself against your cheek until he was fully hard. This seemed like an odd method -- you figured it was simply meant to degrade you. You turned your head away, but he continued, placing his free hand on your other cheek and brought your face to align with his body. He roughly dragged his thumb along your lips, before bringing his cock against them. He was still stroking his base as he gave his order. “Open up.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You kept your lips closed, trying to show some resistance for the sake of your pride. You knew your efforts wouldn’t mean much._ _ _ _ _ _

______He grasped your jaw so that your mouth was forced open, and he pushed himself in, grasping you by your hair. You spluttered over him, and he chuckled as you involuntarily grabbed ahold of his thighs to brace yourself. “How does it feel?” he asked in amusement._ _ _ _ _ _

______He quickly picked up the pace, facefucking you. Every time he thrust in, he moaned, and you gagged -- like you were in some obscene porno. He was big; which only promoted his arrogance. Saliva escaped your mouth, gathering underneath your chin, and your face was streaked with tears. You could barely breathe._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Look at me.” You forced your eyes up to meet his. He spit onto your face and you closed your eyes tightly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Open.” he quickly commanded, and after a second you obeyed. You were blinking, trying to avoid the glob of spit running down where your eye met the curve of your nose._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You like the taste of cock? Huh?” He asked while panting, a grin on his face. A few moments later, he pulled out of your mouth and you turned your head away, gasping for breath. He stroked himself furiously, stopping briefly to knee your face back into position. You stayed still, awaiting the inevitable. Suddenly, his mouth opened in ecstasy, and he spent all over your face with a groan. Flinching back, you scrunched your eyes closed. He made sure to land some of his semen on your lips, and you immediately pressed them together. He grunted as he pumped out his last few drops._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael chuckled breathlessly, then spoke. “Open your eyes.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You hesitated for a moment, disoriented by the mixture of shame and titillation within you. You complied with his “request”, and opened you eyes into small slits, continuously blinking. He smiled, taking a moment to revel in your inflamed lips, teary eyes, and red, seed-covered skin._ _ _ _ _ _

______He let go of your hair, and you let yourself fall back onto your calves, one hand resting on the floor. You brought the other up to wipe your face._ _ _ _ _ _

______He grabbed your wrist. “No. The carpet.” Realizing what he meant, you let out a choked sob, and he stepped back. You slowly put your hand down with the other and brought your thighs up. You lowered your face to be within a few inches of the ground, and after a moment, you pushed your face down into the carpet, moving from side to side. After a bit, you stopped and looked up at him, non-verbally asking for permission to stop._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You missed a spot.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You shut your eyes in resignation and lowered yourself once again. How long was this going to go on for?_ _ _ _ _ _

______After a longer stretch of time than necessary, he instructed you to lift your head. With a casual look, he shrugged and cocked his head to the side. “Good enough. Now get out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You got up while letting out a shuddering breath. You kept your gaze fixed on the door as you said, “I fucking hate you.” your voice was quiet and unsteady._ _ _ _ _ _

______He gave a long hum, as if to say, “Yeah right.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______As you walked towards the door, his voice stopped you in your tracks. “Oh, and next time I’ll be needing some information coming _directly _from your council. Understood?”___ _ _ _ _ _

________You nodded while yanking the door open, making your way out of the hotel as quickly as possible._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> The next chapter should be up in about three days :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a chat with Myrtle and obtain an explosive bit of information.

While making your way back to Robicheaux’s, you couldn’t stop sniffling. The humiliation you felt after the encounter previous to this one was notable, but it had all seemed, in some twisted way, playful. A singular show of dominance, working a sexual aspect in to play on your clear infatuation.

This encounter was something else entirely. You were now aware that he was not only capable of disrespecting you to keep you in line, but also of completely disregarding you as a human being. He had done it for his entertainment. You didn’t know how many more times these torments would occur, and this frightened you more than anything.

You were immensely ashamed to, at the same time, be excited by his undeniable ownership of you. It made your chest swell, like a hole within you was being filled. It made you feel like you mattered.

You had spent the rest of the day in your room. When you fell asleep, your face was sticky with dried tears.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The next morning, you woke up feeling the desperate need to get on top of your assignment as soon as possible. That was one anxiety-inducing aspect of your arrangement; you never knew when he was going to command you to drop everything and run to him. The last thing you wanted was to incur his anger… or so you’d like to think.

As you passed Myrtle in the hall, you put your current feeling of fragility to good use, timidly asking if you could speak to her alone. You believed that she would be your best shot at acquiring information. While she was generally less kind than Cordelia, she was also the closest to her. Not to mention, she had been the witch most outraged at the idea of a male Supreme. 

The two of you sat down by the fireplace in her room. You informed her of your conversation with Madison, and begged her not to blame the girl for anything, as she was “just trying to reassure” you. You hesitantly asked -- making sure to stutter every now and then -- if there was anything they could tell you regarding him, or the current plan of action to stop him.

She regarded you with uncertainty for a moment before speaking. “My dear girl, I’m sure you are aware of the tension between us witches and those vulgar warlocks, as you have witnessed it firsthand on more than one occasion.”

You nodded.

She continued. “While Cordelia was… accepting enough of Michael at first, it has become evident through Madison’s ventures, as well as the increasing aggressiveness of those impotent boys, that we are facing a rather serious dilemma.”

You looked at her in false confusion. “Well… what’s the problem?”

Myrtle sighed as she put her hand over yours. You stiffened slightly at her show of sincerity; It made you uncomfortable, given how calculating you had to be in this moment. “For the entire time I have been advising our dear Supreme, I have never dreamed of sharing any such sensitive information without consulting her first. But given that you have already been made aware of our precarious situation, I believe I should not leave your imagine to run wild.”

She stood up and walked over to the mantle, theatrically drawing out the moment, before continuing. “Madison has discovered, through speaking with numerous figures from his childhood, that Michael Langdon is the Antichrist.”

You couldn’t believe it at first. Then, you considered the fact that you yourself had _been to hell _, and you came to the conclusion that the existence of Satan, along with his spawn, was not an improbability.__

__You stood up and grasped the back of your chair for support. You didn’t know what to say, that much was clear. “I know it is not the best news to receive dear, but we council members are preparing to fight his ascension, and when we have decided on our plans, we will inform the rest of the Coven and attack, full force.”_ _

__She walked back over to you. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, but please don’t make the same mistake as Madison -- as I’ve said, this is a very sensitive bit of information, and our situation is uncertain enough as is.”_ _

__Nodding fervently, you responded. “No, of course not, I won’t tell any of the other girls.” That wasn’t a lie. You continued, “Thanks Myrtle, really… I just… I needed to know.” Giving a smile before walking out, you made you way out the back for some air._ _

__What was going to happen now? When you saw Michael next, should you tell him about this? If you did, and it turned out that he didn’t want you to know about him, he would kill you. If you withheld your discovery and he found out about it, he would kill you._ _

__When he had first blackmailed you, you’d assumed he believed that the Coven would try to prevent him from becoming Supreme simply out of spite. Did he know then what they would be capable of discovering? Was there any chance that he’d expected you would find out about this, eventually?_ _

__You decided that the best route for prolonging your life a while longer was keeping this whole conversation from him. You would just have to formulate another, less informative conversation to report._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be pretty long, and interesting ;)
> 
> Also if you're into this type of fic you should check out this Tumblr page:  
> https://icylangdon.tumblr.com/post/186217196577/i-have-finally-decided-to-create-a-masterlist


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very intense, smutty meeting takes place.

For nine days you had been kept in near-unbearable suspense, constantly imagining as many possible outcomes of your next meeting. You wondered why he had waited so long. Perhaps the warlocks were also busy strategizing, or maybe Michael felt he needed a break from being in your presence so many times within such a short timespan. Had you not been so anxious to get this particular meeting over with, you could’ve claimed that the feeling was mutual.

You had received his text, instructing you to meet him at Hawthorne for the first time in a while. This made you feel uneasy -- like you were trudging into the depths of hell. This was not only due to your recent discovery concerning Michael, but also knowing now that the men presiding over these premises fully supported his endeavors to overpower your Coven, by any means necessary.

You weren’t comforted to find the school almost completely empty as Ariel came to greet you.  
You inquired as to where all of his students were, and he replied that Baldwin had taken them out on a field trip; he refrained from giving any specifics.

He escorted you up to Michael’s room and knocked on the door as if he were delivering a package.

“Come in.” you opened the door as Ariel walked away coolly.

As soon the door closed, you walked up to Michael and volunteered your “information” -- you just _had _to get this over with. “Um, so, I asked Cordelia about you,” his face exhibited mild surprise at your eagerness, “and she basically just said that they have everything under control, and that I shouldn't worry.” He stood and cocked his eyebrows, displeased.__

____“That’s all you were able to get for me, not even any pieces of gossip?” He sounded skeptical._ _ _ _

____You decided to improvise a bit to make your front of failure seem more believable. “Uh, I heard some girls talking about how weird Madison has been acting since she got back-” You scoured your brain for more, and managed to find some actual truth to report. “-I also heard that Mallory basically performed magic throat surgery on someone.”_ _ _ _

____Michael hummed a sound of false interest, pushed himself off of the wall against which he’d been leaning, and walked towards you with his arms crossed against his chest. To your surprise, you held your ground._ _ _ _

____He put his hand on your shoulder in a friendly manner. “You disappoint me, (Y/N).”_ _ _ _

____You felt a sensation beyond the bounds of relief to hear that he believed you; he simply thought you were exhibiting your incompetence._ _ _ _

____This incomparable feeling lasted only a few seconds, as he then pulled his arm from his chest to punch you in the face. You fell to the ground, the side of your head knocking against the wall, painfully contorting your neck. Sitting on the floor, you pushed the palm of your hand against your head in an attempt to quell its throbbing._ _ _ _

____In your peripheral vision, you could see Michael clenching and unclenching his fists in anger and pain. He walked over to you and squatted down to your level, punching you once more, only this time the blow was directed towards your stomach. You jerked forward as your free hand wrapped around your abdomen. You quickly curled up against the wall and turned your head away, fearing what was to come._ _ _ _

____Your breaths were as jagged as shards of broken glass. Blood trickled its way down from your cheekbone and into a few stray strands of hair._ _ _ _

____He began speaking in a calm, almost musical tone. “How on earth did you think you could get away with lying to me? I’ve made it clear how much more sophisticated my powers are than any you people possess.”_ _ _ _

____You just sat there trembling, face still turned away as you closed your eyes._ _ _ _

____“Tell me. Tell me that you know who I am.”_ _ _ _

____Your voice came out shaking, barely above a whisper. “I know who you are.”_ _ _ _

____His hand grasped your thigh, not roughly, but firmly enough to convey that he was not above persuading you physically. “I’m going to need you to be more specific. And to look at me.”_ _ _ _

____You faced him, and what little doubt you’d had of his nature disappeared. You could see the hunger for destruction in his eyes, feel it in the aches of your body. “You’re the Antichrist.”_ _ _ _

____He gently shook your knee in satisfaction._ _ _ _

____Breath still heaving slightly, you spoke nervously. “So… what are you going to do?”_ _ _ _

____“What do you mean?”_ _ _ _

____“You’re -- Are you going to destroy the world?”_ _ _ _

____He huffed. “No, (Y/N), I’m not going to destroy the world. If that were my plan, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with either Coven.” You were surprised to hear him refer to the warlock’s Coven as something separate from himself; as though they hadn’t served as his patrons._ _ _ _

____He continued. “No, I want to unite both witches and warlocks, so that those of us imbued with magical abilities can gain power and control -- under my leadership, of course.”_ _ _ _

____You were surprised by the rationality, the _normality _, of his plan. “Like, politically?”___ _ _ _

______He considered this. “In a way.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So you--”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not going to give you any more information than I have already.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You gulped, blinking heavily. So he wasn’t going to destroy the Covens, but would he destroy you, for lying to him? “Are you going to kill me?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He stood up slowly, leaving you in suspense. “No.” he said as a grin widened across his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you going to send me to prison?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______A snort. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You responded, your tone as aggressive as could be -- under the circumstances. “What?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I said that I couldn’t send you to prison even if I wanted to -- it’s not like there was any real evidence, (Y/N). The only way was I was able to find out that you had murdered your family was by the grace of my father.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Your shock was written all over your face as he took a pause, then carried on. “And I don’t think a court of law would take Satan’s word for it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You brought your hands up to grasp at the roots of your hair, blood thrumming in your ears as you looked down at your knees, trying to comprehend what Michael was saying. He had lied. He had blackmailed you with a fucking police report. You’d decided to just take _his _fucking word for it when he assured you that he had enough evidence to ruin your life. You’d betrayed and killed over a pile of bullshit.___ _ _ _ _ _

________You stood up as quickly and you could, and gave him a shove. “You’re just trying to fuck with me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He seemed amuse by your vigor. “Well, yes and no. I didn’t have any evidence to prove that you had killed your family,” he paused for effect as you closed your eyes in continuing disbelief, “but I’ve recently attained footage of you committing yet another murder. Granted, it wouldn’t have the power to send you to prison, due to the supernatural aspect of it -- but it would be able to send you to the stake.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Your chest was filled to the brim with anxiety, though your stomach was completely hollow. That night, on the drive back from the gas station, you were emotional, just as Mead had reported back to Michael. Your tears were driven by guilt, and they were driven by fear. A selfish fear, of what you could turn into if Michael continued sending you on errands such as that. You had scared yourself when you killed your family -- you’d had problems with them, and when you set the house ablaze, they were burnt away. You were ridden with guilt for committing such a heinous act, yet there was a feeling of relief that had followed your impulsive decision._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The confusion had made you feel like a complete and utter degenerate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But thinking of John Henry, his face when Mead shot him, how hard he’d fallen, the sounds he’d made… you had killed him in the most painful, _hellish _way possible. You didn’t know him. He hadn’t done you any wrong. And yet, in following Michael’s order, you felt what was almost a sense of affirmation. You had done exactly what was expected of you, and thus gained some small amount of approval from Michael. You felt as though you had purpose…___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But this was hardly the time to psychoanalyze yourself. “How intelligent of your _Ms. Mead _to record herself committing a felony.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He glared at you. “She’s loyal. She understands the greater purpose we’re serving.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________You looked around the room. “Is there any way you could show me the footage Michael? Somehow I don’t feel inclined to take your word again.” You most certainly did not want to witness his death all over again, but you couldn’t let Michael think you would fall for the same trick twice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He went over to stand by his desk, and gestured for you to join him. As you were walking over, he had already begun to play black-and-white footage of the murder of John Henry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________You were transported back to that night, and the wave of mixed feelings your act had brung you crashed over you once more. You hoped that Michael couldn’t sense this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He closed the laptop and turned to you. “Do you need me to play it back?” he mocked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No.” you shot back at him. “I guess I’ll have to keep being your errand boy for a little while longer.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You don’t have to do anything. You didn’t have to betray your Coven, you didn’t have to kill John Henry, you didn’t have to manipulate your peers and council into giving you confidential information.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________You stared at him, attempting to repress your anger at his devaluation of the position _he _had put you in. You weren’t being entirely successful.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________With a menacing grin, Michael leaned forward, adding one last sentence to the end of his lecture; the one he knew would send you over the edge._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“And most notably… you didn’t have to suck my cock.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________After a moment of staring in shock, you shoved him, twice, and his only reaction was a smug expression plastered across his handsome face. He never broke eye contact with you, knowing he was nowhere near the state of being in real danger. You slapped him, beat your fists against his chest -- he just upheld the same unconcerned stare. It was true that your efforts were likely tempered by the exhaustion you felt, induced by your newly acquired injuries. However, there was also the minor factor of him being the Antichrist -- even if you had managed to hurt him, he was secure in knowing that he could repay the debt a million times over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He grabbed you and started pushing you, still facing him, towards the bed. His pace was so forceful that you very nearly fell back onto the ground._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He threw you down and straddled your hips, holding your hands down by either side of your head. He chuckled when you fought in vain. “You know, you were just too perfect. A dead, fucked up little witch who’d killed her family, and would’ve had nowhere else to go but Robichaux’s.” another chuckle. “And when I brought you back, you were even easier than I thought you’d be -- you had _actually asked _to see me pass the test. All those bitches would have rather been at their own fucking funerals, but you tagged along just to look at me.” He spoke those last two words in an exaggeratedly childish voice._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You squirmed around again in an effort to show him your agitation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He smiled a wide, genuine smile. “I treated you like a goddamn animal, and you just couldn’t stop yourself from doing everything, I, said.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You rolled you eyes, concealing shame. “No shit -- you fucking blackmailed me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Yes I did, very easily. But you remember the agreement, don’t you? You would come to see me whenever I told you to, and you would report every bit of information you’d managed to obtain.” He moved his face down to yours. “If I’m remembering correctly, there were no mentions of sexual favors, or of murder.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You knew he was right. It surprised you that you hadn’t reconsidered the stipulations until now -- the stipulations of the deal that required you to betray your protectors._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________This was because -- despite what you tried to convince yourself of -- you didn’t care. Though staying out of prison had always been your main reason for obeying him, you had still craved his approval -- or even just his attention. And you hated yourself for it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You just laid on the bed while Michael stared down at you; there was a long moment of silence. It seemed as though he wanted you to fully process the psychology behind your compliance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He shook his head at you questioningly. “Am I remembering correctly?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You met his eyes with a serious expression in a miserable attempt to show strength. “Yes, you’re remembering correctly.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________A glimmer in his eye, he asked you a question, of which he already knew the answer. “If I deleted that video right now, smashed Ms. Mead’s camera, would you run out of here and go scampering back to Cordelia, hmm? Would you beg her forgiveness?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You answered him with an embarrassingly shaky voice. “No.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Giving a triumphant, yet unsurprised chuckle, he ground his pelvis into yours. “You wet?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Teary eyes darting to the ceiling, you hesitated before shaking your head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Michael repositioned himself to lie above you, one hand coming down to secure the top of your head in his grip as he began to dry hump you with slow determination. Keeping your eyes on the ceiling, you felt yourself throbbing as arousal spilled out of you._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________After a minute he stood up, quickly pushing your pants down to your calves and your shirt up to your collarbone. He then began unbuckling his pants to push them down to his lower thighs. “Let’s see if your cunt’s any better than your mouth.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You felt your walls clench at this. You were excited, partially due to his anticipation to fuck you, but also by his insult to your oral skills -- not that he had really given you any opportunity to demonstrate them. Instead, he had fucked your face viciously, paying you less mind than one would a sex doll. You gave him an enraged glare. “You’re disgusting.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Looking you up and down, he rhetorically asked, “And you think you could do better?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You refused to let any tears spill over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Suddenly, you felt yourself being flipped over. You moved your face to the side so as to not be suffocated. You saw his elbows come to rest by your sides as he laid his body down on yours, pressing you into the bed. He spread your legs with his and slowly pushed himself in. You clenched your mouth shut in a failed attempt to silence whimpers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Does it hurt?” he breathed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Your clenched your jaw and responded roughly. “Yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He brought his face down, sitting it right next to yours. “And does it feel good?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You hesitated before giving your answer. “Yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________His slow movements were beginning to build the tension inside of you -- then you felt a stab of pain run through your bruised cheek. He was pushing the tips of his fingers into your skin, as well as the small cut his ring had gave you._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Michael, stop!” you cried, flailing your arms at your sides._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He did stop, both the clawing and the thrusting. Panting, he said, “Ok, I will -- just tell me to get off you first.” You couldn’t. If pain was the price to pay for his attention, then so be it. When you didn’t say anything, he released a breathless chuckle. “You’re so fucking pathetic.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Michael continued his movements, though he now moved at a faster pace. He was not jackhammering into you as he had your mouth, but moving hard enough so that you were jolted forward and downwards with each thrust. He slipped one hand under your shirt to roughly knead your breasts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________When you reached your climax, you grasped at the bed cover and gave a quivering moan. He realized what was happening and promptly grabbed you by the neck, shoving your face into the bed. You gave muffled moans as you moved around, trying to break free from his grasp. You finished your orgasm with the fear of passing out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He let go of you, and you fervently twisted your neck to the side to gasp for air, tears flowing sideways._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________A few moments later. He pulled out to his tip, jammed himself back in, and slowly repeated this a few times over. Each time you cried out. Returning to to his previous pace, he came inside, making obscenely vulgar sounds. He continued riding you until he was completely spent. When he came down from his high, he gently grabbed ahold of your hair and lowered his head into the crook of your neck, uttering a breathy “Fuck.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He laid on top of you for a good while longer -- steadying his breath -- before pulling out and standing up. You heard him securing the buckle of his belt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Michael spoke casually. “Get up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Stretched sore, lungs burning, stomach aching, cheek stinging -- these were just the  
_physical _aspects of your situation that kept you motionless. “I can’t.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He condescended to you as a parent would to their child. “Yes, you can.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________You trembled as you pulled yourself back by your hips, and once your hands were close enough to the edge of the bed, you pushed yourself up slowly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He brought your clothing back into position, then went to lean against his desk, pulling out his phone. He spoke up after a minute. ‘You can leave now; Ariel is waiting to escort you out.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________As you made it into the hallway, you met Ariel as he was just approaching. He was smug to see you like this -- bent over and limping, hair a rat’s nest, face bruised and sticky with dried tears._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Michael is lying about the whole _not destroying the world _thing. That's definitely apart of the plan.__


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the other witches are suspicious of you.
> 
> (Next chapter will be much longer ;) )

You walked into the boarding school, noticing that there seemed to be less girls around than usual. It was Friday, you supposed; it made sense for people to be out, having fun… you hurried up the stairs while still trying to remain covert. As you entered your room, you were grateful to see it empty. You moved to sit on your bed.

You gasped when you felt a sharp poke in your bruised neck. You turned around to see Queenie holding a syringe. The rest of the council members stood behind her, as well as Madison and two of the Coven’s bodyguards. All of the women shot disappointed glares at you as you fell to your knees, everything melting away.

As you came out of unconsciousness, you felt cold metal clasping your hands together, as well as your feet. You were sat down on a concrete floor in what you supposed was the school’s basement. You saw all of your assailants standing above you.

Cordelia spoke firmly. “I’m eager to hear what reason you had for betraying your sisters.”

Your pulse quickened. You had some faith in yourself to potentially work your way out of this; you had gotten used to lying as of late. “What?”

Queenie sighed as placed her hands on her waist. “Bitch, stop. We know you’ve been working for Michael.” She sounded exasperated.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I haven’t even seen Michael since the Seven Wonders.”

Myrtle spoke, also sounding uninterested. Perhaps everyone here had had a long day. “And you have no idea what has happened to John Henry Moore, I suppose?”

Your brows furrowed in false confusion as your eyes nervously scanned the whole party. “I’m sorry?”

Cordelia responded to your query. “When we heard that he had decided to go on “sabbatical” quite soon after Michael’s completion of the Seven Wonders, we were concerned. He’d been the only member of the warlock’s council who seemed to question the root of Michael’s power. Zoe was able to locate his ashes.”

You were only able to only muster up one word, a custom of yours when you were feeling nervous. “...Ok?”

Madison rolled her eyes. “His ashes, as in he was burned to death, as in you’re pyrokinetic. See where we’re going with this?” She asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t hurt John Henry.”

Zoe spoke up, as calm and collected as usual. “We were able to bring him back.”

Her phrasing -- the use of the word “able”, specifically -- reminded you of something they seemed to have forgotten about: No matter how many talented witches had attempted to over the years, there were no recorded instances of someone being able to bring back someone whose body was beyond the point of identification.

“Who brought him back?” you asked sneakily. You knew she was telling the truth; there was no way they could have known about your involvement with his death otherwise. Your fiery fate was inevitable, and you wanted to distract yourself from the past few hours’ events, so you figured you might as well make the most of the time you had left by prodding them.

Zoe’s mouth flickered with hesitation before stating, “Cordelia.”

Bullshit. “I thought he would’ve been beyond saving at that point.”

Cordelia spoke. “Because you thought you were beyond conviction.”

“Actually, because I remembered one of your lessons, Zoe.” You eyed her. “I was under the impression that there were no recorded instances of a witch bringing back someone whose body was torn apart, or unrecognizable.”

They all kept their cool in an attempt to evade the undeniability of your statement. That is, except for Madison, who could not help but darting her eyes to the back of Cordelia’s head, anticipating the Supreme’s reaction.

It didn’t take too much brainpower to determine who this regenerator was, given how everyone in the house just couldn’t stop talking about her. “So Mallory helped you guys out.”

Myrtle exhaled after taking a draw from her cigarette. “You might as well confess now, as you seem to have stopped carrying on with your lies in favor of amusing yourself.”

You gave her a tight smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

This time, it was one of the bodyguards who approached you to give you the injection. You didn’t resist -- you were beyond saving.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were escorted by the council, wearing only a linen shift, towards your death. Ariel, Baldwin, and Ms. Mead joined you. You weren’t too surprised to see that they hadn’t been able to get ahold of Michael.

John Henry was present. You were genuinely surprised to see him so completely regenerated -- he seemed to be glowing. You surmised this was because he was attending the execution of his murderers, who were to be killed in the same excruciating manner as he was. He was not shy about his revelry either. He savored the moment by approaching to triumphantly pour gasoline over Ms. Mead’s head, and then walked over to soak you as well. 

Before he tipped the can forward, his mouth formed a sarcastically rueful smile as he looked down at your cheek. “That’s quite the cut.” It wasn’t hard for him to guess who had inflicted it.

You tensed up you were doused in liquid. When they asked for everyone’s last words, you decided to point out a weakness of theirs -- rather, of their leader’s -- though you knew it was rather pointless.

You spoke resignedly. “See you soon Cordelia.”

You were then enveloped in the unbearable pain that you had, more than once, inflicted upon others -- though in your current state, you weren’t able to think of this as your retribution; you couldn’t think of anything but the flames.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up, and have one hell of a day.
> 
> Note: Cordelia doesn’t hide Mead’s soul away, because that seemed like a pretty ham-handed note in the show. Also, the purpose of her death was only to make Michael confused for a second, only to be just fine with his robot version an episode later... so yeah.

You awoke with a scream. Of course, it wasn’t too audible, as your throat was sore and unbelievably dry. Michael was standing over you alongside a rejuvenated Ms. Mead, observing your return to consciousness; rather, your return to life -- for a second time. Looking around, you saw were lying on the floor of a dimly lit bedroom. You wondered why you had not been placed on the bed, despite already knowing the reason, feeling the intended pain in your shoulders. 

Mead grabbed onto both of your hands, helping you stand up.

“Where are we?” It hurt to speak.

Michael answered calmly. “We’re in Lafayette, but we will be returning to New Orleans tomorrow to meet with someone who can help us overthrow the council that burned you two alive.”

Honestly, you knew that you’d deserved your punishment, but… a part of you was just fine with the idea of them being “replaced”, so to speak. And in the case of Cordelia, her death wouldn’t even be too sudden of a loss, given how her life force was leaking out of her and pouring into Mallory.

However, you were doubtful of someone’s abilities surmounting Michael’s in terms of accessing the leaders of the witches’ Coven. “Who are they?”

Mead spoke up, in a voice only slightly healthier than yours. “Apparently there’s more than two types of witches out there. We’re getting some help from the _Voodoo Queen _.” She sounded tired, likely due to having recently been brought back from the dead, though she also seemed turned off from learning of another potential threat to Michael’s ascent to power.__

__So Dinah Stevens was going to help you. She was undoubtedly powerful, but you wondered why she would engage in matters concerning the witches and warlocks. You surmised that she had probably been made aware of Michael’s true nature, either by a threat from him, or a warning from Cordelia._ _

__“You and I can grab some decent clothes in the morning -- we leave at noon.” said Ms. Mead. For this you were grateful, as the two of you were still dressed in your shapeless shifts -- though at least they were now clean._ _

__Michael turned slightly to face his loyal companion. “Ms. Mead, would you give us a moment?” You were surprised to hear the genuine respect his tone held._ _

__She responded as she walked over to the door, Michael’s eyes following. “Oh, I’ll give you more than a moment. I’m tired as hell -- see you two in the morning.”_ _

__The door closed. He turned his attention towards you, and for the second time within a handful of days, he punched you in the face. You fell back onto the bed, reflexively putting your arms down to remain in a sitting position._ _

__He spoke in his usual calm, charismatic voice. “I’m sorry, but the regeneration process had healed that bruise of yours -- as well as the cut.”_ _

__Hot tears in your eyes, you put your hand to your aching cheek and felt your blood beginning to seep out._ _

__You turned to face him. “Why did you even bring me back if you hate me so much?”_ _

__His lips quirked upwards as he looked down at you, hands clasped behind his back. “You have your uses.”_ _

__Heat pooled in your cheeks, mildly accentuating the pain of your injury. “What about Ariel and Baldwin? Didn’t they have their uses?”_ _

__His eyes narrowed as he swallowed. “They did, but unfortunately for them, they’d become a bit too proud… they were beginning to forget who was really in charge.” You found this to be an odd excuse for letting half of his allies remain as ash._ _

__He spoke again. “I was surprised by your reaction, or lack thereof, when you heard of my plans for your council.”_ _

__You cleared your throat, painfully. “They burned me alive.”_ _

__“You’ve burned people alive.”_ _

__You nodded condescendingly. “And I’m sure they would love to get their revenge on me; hell, John Henry already has.”_ _

__He cocked his head and grimaced, seemingly unamused by your attitude. “But you’ve burned what you would consider _innocent _people alive.”___ _

____“Well, it doesn’t sound like that’s how you’d consider them.” You realized then that you had, even if somewhat sarcastically, alluded to possible allegiance with Michael’s cynical worldview._ _ _ _

____He seemed to have realized this as well, as you saw a mischievous look grow in his eyes and his mouth open slightly. You averted your gaze and began to stand up. Surprisingly, he made way for you to do so._ _ _ _

____You spoke as you wandered around the room. “How long had Mead been awake when you woke me up?”_ _ _ _

____He answered as you were faced away from him. “ _Ms. _Mead and I had matters to discuss -- matters that didn’t concern you.”___ _ _ _

______Accepting his non-answer, you turned. “And what can Dinah Stevens do that you can’t? Is she just bait?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You don’t need to concern yourself with strategy sweetheart.” Michael sneered at you. Now get into bed. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You did as you were told, and as he began undressing you turned to face the wall, unsure of what was to come. But when he slipped under the covers, he didn’t so much as touch you._ _ _ _ _ _

______\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _ _ _ _ _

______You sat in the backseat of the car as it came to a stop, allowing a woman, who you concluded was the Voodoo Queen herself, to get in. She sat next to you, seeming surprised by your presence._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael looked at you two through the front mirror._ _ _ _ _ _

______“(Y/N), meet Dinah Stevens. Dinah Stevens, meet (Y/N).”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Mead continued to drive you all through the city. No one spoke. As the car pulled up outside of Robichaux’s, your heart was beating overwhelmingly fast._ _ _ _ _ _

______Following the lead of the other women, you began to step out. Michael stopped you before your feet had even touched the ground._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh no, (Y/N), you’ll be staying right here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______You made eye contact through the mirror once more. “Why?” You were irritated, which only served to frighten you -- were you _too _keen on seeing the council meet their respective ends?___ _ _ _ _ _

________He spoke as if his reasoning was beyond obvious. “I can’t have you ruining this entire mission.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Ruining the entire mission? You were pyrokinetic for Christ’s sake. Surely you would be of greater use than Mead -- despite her abilities with guns._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________However, you knew that Michael respected her, and regarded you as the bane of his existence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You closed the door. “Then why am I even here?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He was quickly growing impatient. “Would you have preferred me to leave you in Lafayette?” After a moment of mutually annoyed staring, Michael jumped out of the car._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You watched as Dinah performed a ritual, and you realized that Cordelia must’ve cast some sort of spell to shield the house from Michael specifically. It was fascinating to see how her magic differed from the witches’ -- it was intricate, almost artistic. When she was finished, she walked hurriedly down the street and around the corner; you wondered why the three of you would not be driving her back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Palms sweating profusely, you watched as Michael and Mead entered the school._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It was torturous waiting for the pair to return. After a while you began to wonder if this would even turn out in Michael’s favor -- yes, he was extremely powerful, but the house was filled with others whose powers weren’t anything to scoff at, including the Supreme herself. And supposing he was able to kill the council, how would he ever be able to gain the loyalty of the others? It would be hard to control such a large group of people who were all united in their hatred of him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You were shocked when they came out after only half an hour. You stepped out before they had even reached the car, brows furrowed questioningly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael looked unnervingly pleased. The cold smile on his lips and the spark in his eyes combined to suggest that he had set something in motion -- something greater than any could fathom. Of course, you knew that this was his plan, but the pride in his expression didn’t exactly seem motivated by professional success, rather, it seemed almost intimate, personal._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You nervously looked to him, the ground, and back again. “Did everything… is everything ok?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Mead gave you a friendly nod. “Better than ok.” She got into the car, and as soon as she closed her door, Michael spoke._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Come. I want to show you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You were suspicious of the polite tone with which he was now speaking -- it was certainly not something you were accustomed to. “... Ok.” Stepping onto the porch, he opened the front door for you -- something was off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________As soon as you crossed the threshold, you found yourself standing over all of the council members, as well as Madison. Their bodies were so uniformly positioned that you knew Michael must’ve moved them from their original locations. Perhaps this was why he was acting strangely, perhaps he thought that once you had seen them, you would immediately regret everything. You weren’t regretful, though, simply taken aback by the reality of the situation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The door closed, and Michael spoke. “What do we say?” He was standing closer to you than expected._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Without turning to look at him, you spoke quietly. “Thank you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He passed you and stood at the large threshold of the dining room, turning and cocking his head, calling you over. As soon as the room came into sight, you gasped so intensely that you felt pressure deep in your throat. Your hands flew to cover your mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Bodies were scattered all over the floor. Some shot clear through their foreheads, others covered in small, deep wounds, seemingly caused by shards of glass._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, giving yours a tight squeeze and turning to speak._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Aw, don’t be sad.” He paused. “You must’ve known this was going to happen.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You brought your hands down shakily, not responding._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He moved behind you, clasping his hands around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder. This sadistic taunt made tears spill over as you closed your eyes, trying to push his arms down and away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You had never meant for this to happen. You had thought he was after the leaders of the Coven, not the innocent students who’d joined simply to hone their craft._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When you started to sob he gave you short shushes, placing his forehead against your temple. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t find motivation to do anything at all -- you had been completely and utterly deceived. And Michael was eating up your hopelessness like candy. When your sobs died down, he gave your neck a tender kiss and slowly moved himself off of you. You could hear him walking away slowly, and you followed -- not wanting to make this experience any worse than it already was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You walked up the stairs, hand placed on the railing to support your quivering legs. Without turning, he spoke, sounding very pleased with himself. “I’ve got another surprise for you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Reaching the large door of Cordelia’s room, you braced yourself. Michael turned to you, taking a moment to enjoy the mess he had made. He moved behind you once again, placing his hands over your eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He spoke, almost lustfully, into your ear. “Open the door.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You blindly moved your hands forward and around. Hitting the doorknob, you turned and pushed. He began to walk you forward. After a few moments, he removed his hands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________You were more disgusted than mournful when you saw Mallory lying in the middle of the bed, cut open from throat to groin, blood seeping out -- she had been gutted. You tried to turn almost immediately when Michael grabbed you and twisted you back around, forcefully resuming his earlier embrace. As you were forced to stare at her, you saw that she had cuts and bruises all over the rest of her body._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It occurred to you that he might kill you now, as you had served your purpose. But no… he had brought you back just the night before -- though you supposed that could’ve been for the sole purpose of putting you through this gruesome tour._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What was it you said, hm? _People are saying this girl Mallory is the next Supreme _?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________His imitation of you was unnecessary -- the reminder that you were the reason for this girl’s torture was enough to make you scream as you began elbowing him and kicking your legs back. Michael just laughed cruelly and held you tighter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________After a good few moments of indulging you, he spoke. His tone was not what you would’ve expected, considering he seemed to have been enjoying himself so immensely just seconds before. He growled into your ear, “Stop moving.” Your movements died down very quickly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He jostled you. “If I let you go, will you stay still?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________You nodded, unable to speak._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Good.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________When Michael let go, he grabbed Mallory’s body by the legs and dragged it off of the tall bed. You heard the especially loud _thump _and shut your eyes.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Get on the bed.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________You whipped around to face him, so shocked by the gruesomeness of his command that you almost believed he was joking._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He took a step forward. “You know I don’t like having to repeat myself.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Your arms were trembling, as was your voice. “M-M-Michael, I can’t-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He placed one bloody hand onto your neck, applying pressure. “You can and you will.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________You took too long trying to tune yourself out of the situation, so he grasped your shoulders firmly and steadily lowered you down to sit. He squatted down to the floor, looking up at you. “You’ve been a good girl for me, haven’t you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________His question wasn’t rhetorical -- you nodded, tired eyes staring at the floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Michael reached up to cup your face for a moment, running his sticky thumb over your chin. “I want you to tell me all about how good of a girl you’ve been.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Focus on the floor, _you told yourself. _Focus on the floor… ______ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I t-told you… about the things that p-people were... saying about you.” You spoke with the words of a child._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Faking confusion, he asked, “What people?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Swallowing to calm your sore throat, “The people h-here.” your voice cracked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He cocked his head. “The people you let me murder?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Your voice was barely a whisper as you answered his evil question. “Y-yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He paused, letting your guilt sink in. “Go on -- and don’t worry about your language.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________‘I killed John Henry...” You closed your eyes for a moment before continuing, knowing exactly what he wanted you to say -- and how he wanted you to say it. “I… sucked your cock.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He gave a prompting smile. _Focus on the floor, focus on the floor… _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I let you - come on my face. I let you fuck me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Standing up, he laid you back on the bed. You felt Mallory’s blood sticking to your hair and neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Michael smiled down at you as he took off his jacket. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you? After everything you’ve done for me.” He undid the button and zipper of your pants very slowly, then ripped everything down. The sudden aggression made you jump, and he chuckled, having expected the reaction._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He spread your legs, spat into one of his bloodied hands, and began pumping into you. You just stared at the ceiling, your face stiff under a glaze of dried tears. He could see (and feel) that you weren’t reacting to his touch, but he was not the type to give up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I’m gonna make you come.” He said with determination, twisting his hand around so that he could rub your clit with his thumb. After a few moments, your body began to betray you._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You tried with all of your might to hold back your sounds, gripping at your clothing, hair, and even the stained bedsheets. When you came, you moved your legs up and down and pressed your hand down over your mouth, a few muffled sounds escaping you._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________You wanted to die. You were spent, lying in a house full of corpses -- the corpses of your peers and your teachers. You’d sat outside waiting for Michael to return from the slaughter. While Mallory was _tortured _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Michael leaned forward and pushed his digits into your open mouth. You didn’t resist; you had entered a state of complete impassivity. He moved his fingers to spread the blood, spit, and wetness all around. You held back a gag._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He then bent down to encircle your waist, hoisting you up. You walked out of the school with your arms wrapped tightly around one of Michael’s, both because your legs felt as if they were made of lead, and for the sake of being able to shut your eyes as you passed the bodies on the first floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________You fell asleep in the back of the car._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I think this is going to be the last chapter -- though let me know if you'd like to see more done with the storyline, or a part two, etc.
> 
> Update -- There is now a part two on my page :)


	9. Epilogue

The room was small, dark, punishing. Its door remain locked. For days, no one coming or going. No sounds in the hallway, from a neighboring room… nothing. You had been abandoned -- though at this point, perhaps that was a good thing. Why keep going? You deserved to die. In fact, for a while, you had thought that was why you were here. Death by starvation; providing you with plenty of time to contemplate your actions. You realized this wasn’t the case when you’d found a box of cereal under the bed.

Why was it under the bed? To get you on all fours, to crawl like an animal? That wasn’t necessary. You had begun spending a lot of time on all fours in the shower, letting freezing cold water run over you. This had become your daily ritual -- you had to repent, to suffer. Another pastime was sitting on the stiff cot provided to you, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to visualize their faces, their bodies, Mallory’s body…

Now, you balled up in the corner, talking to yourself, as you did when the stress of your self-reinforced guilt became too much to bear.

“My name is (F/N L/N). I’m from (location). I’m (age) years old. I am a witch. I was blackmailed by a warlock -- the Antichrist -- into betraying my sisters…” Your voice became pained. “The Antichrist...”

Your head snapped up as you heard the door being unlocked.

Ms. Mead entered, saying, “Good news, you’re getting out of here.”

You looked at her with your wild eyes, voice trembling as you whispered, “To go where?”

She walked over to you, placing her hand on your knee in a mildly comforting gesture. You wondered if Michael had told her to do that, to throw you off just before some form of horror was inflicted upon you.

She gave a light squeeze. “Aren’t you just happy to be leaving the room?”

She didn’t seem to understand. Maybe she would’ve, if she wasn’t so enraptured by the grace of her lord’s mercy, him having forgiven you for… for what? He had made it clear he was pleased with your behavior just before leaving you to rot.

She threw a black shift down onto the bed. “Put this on first.” You had been wearing only underwear for the entirety of your stay -- you’d washed your clothes from the day at Robichaux’s in the sink, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to put them back on, so you’d shoved them far back underneath your cot.

You panicked. “I’m not going. I can’t go. I’m sick.”

She gave you a dubious glance. “How could you possibly get sick in here?”

Your breathing was heavy and you began to sweat. “I don’t know. Maybe the food’s off. I’ve been throwing up, and--”

She held up her hands to stop you. “I’ll go talk to him.”

You froze. Him . You couldn’t see him -- not now, not ever. And if he heard you were going against his commands, you were sure he’d deal with the situation quite personally.

Your eyes widened as you saw her turn to leave. You stood, and as she opened the door, you ran toward her, trying to make your way out. Ramming, clawing, grabbing -- none of it did you any good. The stout woman was too strong, forcefully pulling the door shut despite you. You assaulted it in bitter defeat.

After a few seconds of panting, you ran into the bathroom. You decided to turn the shower on -- maybe he would think you were bathing and would wait a while before bothering you. When he grew impatient, you could throw yourself up against the door, keeping him from entering. Yes, this was your best plan. Your best route to avoid seeing him, though you knew it would buy you only minutes, if that.

The wait made everything worse. The adrenaline rush died down, and you realized how ridiculous this attempt was. It wouldn’t even express defiance, it would display fear. The door unlocked again. The adrenaline came back full force.

You shallowed your breathing even though you knew the shower concealed the noise. Hearing nothing from the outside, you furrowed your brows. You knew he was there. Was he actually waiting for you? Or was he just trying to--

A loud knock, right by your head. You were sure your gasp was plain to hear from the other side of the door. A voice, so cruelly childish, taunted, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

You were jamming your body into the door hard, so hard; it wasn’t enough. Within a few moments of pushing, you were slammed back into the wall as he maneuvered himself around the door to stand right in front of you. You shut your eyes and began beating your forearms into his chest -- he forcefully pulled them down and held them by your sides.

Michael stared at you in amused wonder. “Well, I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

Your breathing was embarrassingly audible as you looked down at the floor.

He continued, gesturing to your exposed form. “Nice outfit, by the way. What, couldn’t get the blood out?”

You wanted to let him do all the talking. It didn’t matter what he wanted to say, he could say it, and then he could leave. Unfortunately he just stood and stared, his hands remaining firmly wrapped around your wrists.

You whispered the only thing you could. “Go away.”

He turned his head to be within your line of sight, and you turned yours away. This cat-and-mouse game went on for a few moments until he stopped. “This is so much fun!” He mocked.

He let you go and stood back, waiting. After a little while, you jumped to the door, and he promptly slammed his hand against it. Flinching as you felt his breathy laugh on your neck, you refused to move your eyes away from the door, only an inch or two from your face.

“You’re a fighter. I like that about you.” He just could not resist condescension -- strength was the last thing you’d been exhibiting.

You tried to command him. “Leave.”

He moved his face closer and closer to yours, and you gave into eye contact. You didn’t want him near you.

Eyes sparkling, he spoke. “I’m not leaving, and neither are you. We have a lot to discuss.” He opened the door, flicking his head towards the bedroom, ordering you to follow. As much as you feared him, hated him , you just wanted this over with.

Sitting on the cot, he patted the space beside him. You sat on the floor against the opposing wall.

Michael rolled his eyes, though he let it go. “Let’s go over the basics. Do you know where you are?”

Of course you didn’t know where you were. But of course, he wanted to hear your admission of obliviousness. “No.”

The corner of his mouth flickered. “You’re in Lafayette. This is the same place we stayed the night before our visit to Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies.” You shut your eyes. You knew he was using the full title just to prolong your torment of hearing anything having to do with that day.

You could hear the smugness in his voice. “Do you know what day it is?”

“No.”

“It’s Monday.” You opened you eyes, trying to process this. You’d been in here for only three days -- it had felt like longer.

“Do you know my name?”

You scoffed at his crudeness. Yes, you did know his name. Unfortunately, you knew a lot more about him than that. Shivering, you forced out your response, wanting to vomit. This felt far too similar to the little interview he’d conducted with you at Robichaux’s, on that desecrated bed -- though now, instead of his questions being asked in mock interest, they were under the guise of concern for your health.

Furrowing his brows in false confusion, he cocked his head to the side. “What is it?”

You weakly tightened your grip on your calf. “M-Michael Langdon.”

Getting up from the bed, he moved to stand above you -- you drew your knees into yourself.

“How do we know each other?”

His uncomfortable proximity was breaking your willpower to stifle emotions. “Stop. I know you, I know how we know each other, and you know that I know. So please just stop.”

Holding his arms behind his back, he calmly ordered for you to stand up. You half-heartedly rolled your eyes as you obeyed him.

When you were face-to-face, he said, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re not experiencing dissociative amnesia -- blocking out information after a traumatic event.“ He wet his lips in amusement before continuing. “I’d suppose starvation would only increase the stress of the past few days.”

That sent you over the brink. You shoved him. “You are so fucked up. I’ve never met anyone as fucked up as you in my entire life.”

His responded with a chuckle. “That’s hardly surprising. There is only one Antichrist.”

The anger stimulating every fiber of your being made you forget about everything else; your hunger, his power over you, your near-nakedness -- everything. “Fuck off. Just fuck off and leave me alone -- let me die here for all I care. Just go.” You spat, shoving him again.

He just stared at you, letting the intensity of your emotions wear down. The silence lasted for longer than a minute before you gave in, needing to ask a question that had been gnawing at you since you first woke up here. You refused to let the rage leave your voice. “What did you do with the warlocks?”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you asking if I killed them, like I did your sisters?”

Eyes moving to the floor, you pressed your lips into a thin line, refusing to answer, though he responded regardless. “If that’s what you’re asking, then yes, I did.”

This made you nervous. This meant that Michael had more allies than you’d previously been aware of if he’d killed both Covens -- you doubted he was going about scheming with only his precious Ms. Mead by his side.

Darting your eyes around your makeshift cell, you asked, “What is this place?”

“The facility we stayed in a few nights ago.”

“Jesus Christ, I know it’s--” He slapped you, and your back hit the wall.

He held you there by your neck, spittle hitting your face as he growled at you. “If you ever say that name again, intentionally or not, I will fuck you up beyond belief.”

You were very much unnerved -- what would he do to you that he hadn’t already? A few ideas popped up in the back of your mind, and you very quickly repressed them. On a different note; If he was so repulsed by that name, you thought, perhaps he shouldn’t assume a title that contains it. You held your face in a tense determination to appear indifferent to his rage. “Good to know.”

He let you go with a jolt, the back of your head gently hitting the wall. He cocked his head at you, still looking like he wanted to split your skull.

“You know, there are many women in my congregation who are even more eager to please than you are.” His congregation… Is that where you were -- a church? You didn’t have time to ponder this, as he continued, ”Do you know how many of them I could fuck instead of you?”

Michael was disgusting whenever speaking to you in sexual terms, though you supposed this wasn’t surprising -- being so composed in public must lead to a lot pent-up aggression, especially if one was demonic in nature. You ran your hands through your hair in exasperation, giggling hysterically. “I don’t even fucking understand you, I mean, why are you here? Why don’t you just go screw one of your little satanic schoolgirls?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and spoke tauntingly. “You’ve been down here for so long. I’ve missed you -- and your cunt.”

Adrenaline took over once again as you irrationally ignored your fear and shoved him away, spitting out, “You’ve blackmailed me, used me, coerced me into murder, beat me, and traumatized me. So you’re gonna have to say goodbye to my cunt .”

He smirked. “I highly doubt that.” He brought one hand up to wrap gently around the side of your neck. “Let me answer your previous question. We are in a Satanic Temple -- Underground, secure as a bunker, and filled with people who would slit their own throats if I commanded them to.” Your fear began to return as he paused, taking a moment to stroke his thumb over your pulse. “Do you know what would happen to you here, if you weren’t under my care? You would be left at their mercy. My loyal followers, who would love nothing more than to beat you, rape you, cut you up, etcetera etcetera. They would be even more eager to hurt you if they thought that you’d disappointed me somehow.”

You swallowed, but forced yourself to make eye contact. “So I guess that means I’m not free to go.”

“No, you’re not. And you’d have nowhere to go even if you were.”


End file.
